An iron-drive ship does not need to drift along the economical Hohmann "A" orbit of the big freighters; it can build up such furious speed that the sun will swing it along a hyperbola rather than an ellipse, and can still brake that speed near its destination. But the critical stage of acceleration has to be just right, or there will not be enough fuel to stop completely; the ship will be pulled into a cometary orbit and run helpless, the crew probably starving before a rescue vessel can locate them. Bo dared not risk the trouble exploding at full drive; he would drift along, capture and bind Lundgard at the first chance, and then head for Earth. He could handle the _Sirius_ alone even if it was illegal; he could not handle her if he had to fight simultaneously. His knuckles were white on the controls as he loosed the grapples and nudged away from the asteroid with a whisper of power. After a few minutes of low acceleration, he cut the rockets, checked position and velocity, and nodded. "On orbit," he said mechanically. "It's your turn to cook, Ei ... Einar." Lundgard swooped easily through the air into the cubbyhole which served for a galley. Cooking in free fall is an art which not all spacemen master, but he could--his meals were even good. Bo felt a helpless kind of rage at his own clumsy efforts. He crouched in midair, dark of mind, a leg hooked around a stanchion to keep from drifting. When someone touched him, his heart jumped and he whirled around. "What's the matter, Bo?" asked Valeria. "You look like doomsday." "I ... I...." He gulped noisily and twisted his mouth into a smile. "Just feeling a little off." "It's more than that, I think." Her eyes were grave. "You've seemed so unhappy the whole trip. Is there anything I can do to help?" "Thanks ... Dr. McKittrick ... but--" "Don't be so formal," she said, almost wistfully. "I don't bite. Too many men think I do. Can't we be friends?" "With a thick-headed clinker like me?" His whisper was raw. "Don't be silly. It takes brains to be a spaceman. I like a man who knows when to be quiet." She lowered her eyes, the lashes were long and sooty black. "There's something solid about you, something so few people seem to have these days. I wish you wouldn't go feeling so inferior." At any other time it would have been a sunburst in him. Now he thought of death, and mumbled something and looked away. A hurt expression crossed her face. "I won't bother you," she said gently, and moved off. The thing was to fall on Lundgard while he slept--